The Request
by Nokomiss
Summary: Draco Malfoy reluctantly makes a request to the headmaster at the command of his father. Complete.


The Request  
  
By Persephone  
  
AN: Well, this is my first foray into the world of writing Harry Potter fanfic. I hope you all enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: None of the characters used in the work of fiction belong to me. They are the creations of J.K. Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox.  
  
  
  
***  
  
"You want to what?" Albus Dumbledore said, amused. He re-adjusted the vulture hat that old Mrs. Longbottom had sent him for his birthday. It was a charming gift. He made a mental note to send her something nice for the next major gift-giving holiday.  
  
"You heard me." Shot back the student sitting in front of his desk. Dumbledore chuckled, loud and merrily, at the young boy. Such confidence and anger in one so young! It was oh so amusing to watch. The anger gave the boy color, which made him look quite splotchy. On one as fastidious and downright prissy as this one, it was a welcome change.  
  
Draco Malfoy glared at the old wizard. He did not enjoy being laughed at, especially by an old man wearing a silly hat. Everybody knew that raven hats were in this season, not vultures. However, the wizard seemed unaffected by his lack of fashion sense. Draco felt a sudden burst of envy for that sort of carefree, unfashionable existence. A plague on him, and his silly Longbottom hat!  
  
"Explain to me, my dear boy, exactly what good this would do." Professor Dumbledore inquired after he stopped laughing. Image, actually coming up here and asking such a thing! It wasn't as if the boy didn't know his stance on the issue.  
  
Draco scowled. He hated it when his father made him come to the Headmaster with these requests. They both knew what the answer would be. Draco was pretty sure that his father derived some sort of evil enjoyment from his misery, and that was his entire incentive behind almost every action towards Draco.  
  
This included, of course, his horrible name (Oh, what he would give to have a name like Joe or Bob. No one ever asked what Bob meant. No one ever made snide comments about the name Bob. Bob was the perfect name.), his bad school experiences (The entire hippogriff stunt had been the idea of his father. Did Lucius even have a clue what kind of teasings Draco had gotten from the other Slytherins, especially the older ones, for acting all wussy? Draco sincerely doubted it. Not to mention all the other instructions to use the most childish insults he could come up with. Fool them into thinking the enemy is dumber than a pile of bricks, Lucius had said. Obviously, it wasn't him that got ridiculed by a silly scarface and his backup thugs.), and he was fairly certain that Lucius had paid Crouch to humiliate Draco by turning him into a ferret. It made sense, because why else would a Death Eater do something that traumatizing to the son of a fellow Death Eater?  
  
Yes, Lucius Malfoy was an evil, evil man. But even that was not sufficient reason for this atrocious act. Draco felt almost sick to his stomach knowing that he was the one to bring this idea forth. His father had to be crazy. There was no other explanation for the act.  
  
When he had received that owl, he had thought it was a joke from Zabini or someone. His father would never make such a request of him. Then, though, he had inspected the seal closer, and it was the Malfoy family crest. There was no way to forge the crest, so he'd had no reason to doubt the letter's authenticity. He had, however, doubted the content.  
  
He had written back home, with a carefully worded inquiry about what exactly he was expected to do. The reply had been brief, and to the point. It had said to do what he had written the first time, and to stop wailing on like a tortured puppy about it.  
  
And so Draco had trudged up to Dumbledore's office. Privately, he had hoped that he wouldn't be able to get into the Headmaster's office. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall was striding away from the office.  
  
She looked at him. "Are you going to see Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
"Yes." Draco said, silently cursing the god of bad timing. There was no way that he could have randomly met up with a teacher leaving Dumbledore's office during the middle of breakfast without divine help.  
  
"The password is Lemon Meringue." McGonagall was smirking at him! Smirking! He was the only one who would smirk! It was a Malfoy family trait, practically the only one that came in useful on a daily basis.  
  
He made a noncommital noise that could conceivably be considered a form of gratitude as she continued to stride away. He turned to the stone gargoyle, and muttered the password as garbled as he could make it. The gargoyle, however, was in on the conspiracy, and opened anyway.  
  
Draco waited until the steps finished their rotation to the top before stepping onto them. This meant that he had to actually climb the steps, but he also got to delay this meeting for a minute longer as he made his way higher. The door swung open as soon as he set foot on the last step, and he cautiously made his way through the threshold.  
  
"Good day, my dear boy!" Dumbledore was being nauseatingly cheerful. Draco could tell already that this was going to be the worst meeting yet. Why, oh why had Lucius asked him to request this, of all things?  
  
Draco muttered something that could be interpreted as, "Good afternoon."  
  
Then again, it could also have been interpreted as, "Please kill me now."  
  
Never mind the fact that the two phrases sound absolutely nothing alike. These are magical folks, and their mutterings are open to many different interpretations.  
  
"How's your father?" Dumbledore was grinning. Yes, he was even in on the Make Draco Miserable conspiracy. There was no escaping it. Who knows, maybe by the time he gets back to his dorm Harry Potter will have decided to forsake Gryffindor ideals and become a Slytherin, for no other reason than to cause Draco misery by his continuous presence. All the other Slytherins would be won over by his sneaky "Look at how pitiful I am, become my friends and worship me!" act, and then Draco alone would be left to realize Potter for the fraud he was.  
  
Draco suddenly remembered that he had been asked a question, and went with the first vague answer that came out of his mouth. "Okay."  
  
Good, Dumbledore was nodding, that meant he had answered the question with something appropriate.  
  
"And your classes?"  
  
"Fine." Draco replied.  
  
"How are you doing at Quidditch? I know Slytherin's playing Hufflepuff next week. Are you worried?"  
  
"No!" Draco snapped.  
  
The headmaster continued to make idle chatter as Draco finally began to loose his temper. With his temper, his self control began to fail him. Finally, the request his father had given him slipped out of his mouth.  
  
"You want to what?" Dumbledore said, amused.  
  
"You heard me."  
  
"Explain to me, my dear boy, exactly what good this would do." Dumbledore inquired.  
  
"It would..." Draco trailed off, trying to come up with some justification. 'It would make students study more."  
  
That had to have been the single worst fib he had ever come up with.  
  
Dumbledore, judging by his raised eyebrow, seemed to agree.  
  
Draco tried his best to come up with a plausible reason for such an action. There were none. His father had gone off the deep end. He may as well be asking for a Junior Death Eaters club to be started. But wait! Even if Dumbledore said no, he had already made the request! He wasn't responsible for the reply to the request! "That's about it." Draco said, deciding that his work was done.  
  
"So, you think that candy should be banned from campus because students will study more."  
  
"Yep." Draco was mentally grinning. All Dumbledore had to do was deny this request, and he was home free.  
  
'I think that's a wonderful idea."  
  
"Okay, too bad, I'll just..." Draco trailed off. What had Dumbledore said? Surely he had misheard. "Say what?"  
  
"Candy is now banned from Hogwarts. I'll put up the notice tomorrow. No one will be able to go to Honeydukes, either." Dumbledore was evil. Never mind what Lucius and the Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort himself thought. Dumbledore was a very, very evil man.  
  
Dumbledore continued to prattle on about the virtues of a healthy diet, and the detrimental effects of sugar on growing bodies, and a hundred different reasons why candy was inherently evil.  
  
"But you can't..." Draco said, suddenly worried.  
  
'Oh, of course I can." Dumbledore announced cheerfully. "No more chocolate, or Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, or..."  
  
Draco could feel the beatings already. Millicent would cheerfully rip out his heart, and feed it to Fluffy the Three Headed Dog, Gayle and Crabbe would do something startlingly uncreative but nonetheless painful, and every other person in the school would happily assist them.  
  
His fear must have shown on his face, because Dumbledore suddenly stopped listing candies.  
  
Dumbledore broke out into laughter. "Gotcha."  
  
Draco almost sighed with relief, but chose instead to glare at the old man. "I'm going now."  
  
"Tell your father that I do so enjoy his sense of humor, though." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. "Good day!"  
  
"Fine." Draco left Dumbledore's office slightly confused. It almost seemed like Dumbledore was on friendly terms with Lucius...  
  
But that couldn't be, could it?  
  
  
  
Later that day:  
  
"So he fell for it?" Lucius Malfoy asked the floating head in his fireplace. "Oh, yes, it was quite amusing. I'll send you a pensieve later on." Albus Dumbledore informed the pale man gleefully.  
  
"That will be great. So, whoa re you betting on for the Quidditch match this weekend?"  
  
"Bulgaria, of course. That other team doesn't stand a chance!"  
  
"I agree..."  
  
  
  
fin.  
  
  
  
  
  
****  
  
Reviews are greatly appreciated!  
  
~Persephone 


End file.
